


Lover Boy

by RantingFangirl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: I hope y'all like Las Vegas, M/M, muahahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RantingFangirl/pseuds/RantingFangirl
Summary: After a drunk night in Las Vegas, Arthur Kirkland didn't know what to expect, but it sure wasn't this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while, so I hope that you all enjoy!

Bright lights, blinking over and over again. Loud noises signifying someone's failure, more starting up as they try again. The hard, worn, colorful carpets mesmerize all who stare, leading them further into the maze of flashing machines and card tables. 

He stumbled, gaining balance just quick enough to save his drink from spilling too badly. He set his hand against the wall in front of him for further stability. The warm, squishy wall that raised up and down.  
A loud laugh sounded, and he looked up to see striking blue eyes raking his face in with unrelenting eagerness.

"Hey, sugar," the wall said while he himself let out a smile that would never see the light of a sober day. The wall slurred, "why don't we head out of here, have a bit of fun on our own?"

He nodded enthusiastically, giggling as the wall takes his hand away from it, leading him towards the opaque double doors, and out into the warm, dry air in the night beyond. 

 

Arthur Kirkland slowly opened his eyes, the pain in his temples and his upper forehead spiking as bright light filtered in through the uncovered window. With a cringe, raise his arm up to rub the flaky crust out of his eyes, but was unable to lift even his forearm. 

What probably would've been soft snoring was loud behind him, and something warm and solid was crushed up against his back, to the point where there was no space between them. Arthur looked down, focusing on the shining, gold ring on his finger. The matching one on the contrasting, tanned hand that was clutching the sheets next to his stomach.

Confusion started to spread in him like a virus, slow but efficient, as he tries to sift through the murky memories of the night before. Walking through the hot Las Vegas Strip as the sun began to set. Tumbling into a casino, the lights calling to him and the sounds engulfing him. Then nothing. The hours blurred together, only to dissolve like salt in water.  
Arthur shifted, groaning as more pain attacked him, joining the one in his head. The arms around his waist latched onto him, pulling him closer to the body behind him. He used his shoulders to shield himself, wiggling in attempt to escape from the grasp. When that proved futile, Arthur lifted his fingers to slowly undo the hold on him.

When that strategy failed as well, only making the grip tighter, Arthur let out a huff in defeat.

The snoring in his ear seemed to grow louder and louder as the pain in his head pounded harder and harder. A wave of nausea crashed over him, his abdomen folding like origami paper. His throat started to claw at itself, demanding water or tea or something to soothe the unending itch. He needed to get out of his prison soon, or they- 

That was right. Arthur realized- truly realized - at that moment that someone, a living human being, was sleeping right next to him. That he was laying there, being held tight in that person's arms. 

He starts to shake, his chest heaving up and down with panic as he pushes against the person against him, kicking his legs to further his chances of freedom. When the hold finally releases, Arthur rolls himself out of the bed, ignoring the pain as his feet hit the rough carpet. 

He stands, tripping over his feet as he fumbles for his clothing. After dropping every piece at least once, he shoves it all on, hoping that he looks somewhat decent. 

Stomach still turning, he begins tearing the room apart for his wallet and phone. Arthur throws the pillows from the corner chair across the room, moving over to swipe everything off the desk before ripping open the drawers. He knew that the racket he was making was loud and probably not the smartest thing to do, but he didn't care.  
He didn't care until he heard a groan and the sound of sheets being tossed and turned.

"Ow," a deep voice moaned. 

Arthur turned around slowly, eyes focusing on the blond haired man stretching in the bed he had just left. The man rubbed his eyes, cringing as he arched his back, a pop sounding. He let out a sigh, lowering his arms down, only to start patting against the bed sheets in an even rhythm. 

The man raised his head, freezing upon seeing Arthur. His sky blue eyes widened, and he shook his head, blinking rapidly.

"Shit," he swears, blinking again. "I really hoped that it was just the alcohol making your eyebrows that big."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. They were in this embarrassing- no- mortifying situation and all the fool had to say was that? Something that was completely irrelevant and just happened to be an insecurity of his, not that Blue Eyes would've known that.

"Excuse me?" he said with less poison that he wanted. 

"Well, it's kinda funny. One of the only things I remember from last night were your eyebrows. I thought I must've been wasted for them to be that big." he signed as if he had been given the largest inconvenience known to man. He cringed, annoyance on his face. "Looks like it wasn't the alcohol."

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I'll have you know that some people find large eyebrows to be quite elegant-"  
"You mean only you?"

"- and I don't need some golden boy to insult my appearance," Arthur spat. He was getting angry, which, considering what family he belonged to, was never a good thing. He tried to take deep breaths, clenching his fists as if he were to take the anger out on his palm. He looked up to see Blue Eyes frowning

"Hey!" he shouted with a pout. "the term 'golden boy' is really offensive to some people-"

"You mean only you?" Arthur repeated Blue Eyes' previous statement, the anger dissipating into a smug smirk. 

The man huffed, folding his arms together, the pout still prominent on his tanned face. "It's rude to steal someone's words, ya know. It's called plagiarizing!"

Arthur knew he was winning, as he always did, but he couldn't help but want to drag the argument out as much as he could. It must have been from the want to keep the high of his victory up and running, and not slow the departure of the blond man. No, definitely not.

"Oh really? I did not expect you to even know the concept of rudeness, what with your comment from before." Arthur almost let out a yell of delight upon seeing Blue Eyes' frown. It was so adorable -no- satisfying to see. "And I doubt that I could be charged with plagiarism. I'll bet you money that many people before us have said that exact same phrase."

Even in his drunken stupor, Arthur would've liked to have at least picked out someone decent to trade room numbers with, and the idiot in front of him was anything but that. It was embarrassing to think how easily he had lost control, in a crowded building with a sea of strangers, no less.

"God, I can't believe I had chosen to marry such a-"

" Wait. What do you mean 'marry'?"

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. Surely he had noticed the ring on his finger already, and was just choosing to ignore it?

Blue Eyes looked down at his hand, his eyes widening to the size of the UFO saucers children were so fond of. His jaw dropped, letting out stumbled words after stumbled words that Arthur wouldn't even bother to try and make out. He blinked and shook his head frantically, almost the exact same way he had done when he had first woken up. It would have been funny, had not Arthur felt a bit sorry for the man. 

After about a minute, Blue Eyes hung his head in defeat. He rubbed his thumb over the ring as if it would magically go away, the shine staying in its place as the metal turned and turned around his finger. He lifted his head to meet Arthur's eyes, Arthur's own heart being pulled with sympathy. 

Blue Eyes started, "We... we need to get divorced." 

"Obviously," Arthur snorted. Though it wasn't that simple. Arthur himself didn't have enough money to hire a divorce lawyer, him coming to this god-awful city emptying his wallet to the point where he would have to scrounge up rent money. The one in front of him, still in the bed but most likely eyeing for his clothing, appearing to be the around same age as him, and, unless he belonged to some rich family and got a signed check from his parents every month, seemed to be in the same boat as him.

"Look, uh..."

"Arthur."

"Arthur! Name's Alfred." he stalled, trying to find something to fill the awkward silence. Alfred laughed, though it lacked the enthusiasm compared to what Arthur guessed he normally would have had. He looked around him, grabbing a pair of glasses off the nightstand that Arthur hadn't noticed before, shoving them on. He decided that Alfred looked better with the glasses, that they fit him, not that he cared.\

"Arthur," he pushed the hair out of his face, "I'm sorry, but I don't have enough to-"

"I figured."

Alfred's cheeks had started to red, the color growing by every second. He reached for his shirt, looking at Arthur, silently pleading.

"Do you mind if I...?'

"Oh. Yes, of course."

Arthur turned away while Alfred gathered his clothing not moving even a fraction of an inch until Alfred gave the OK.

When he faced towards the other, Alfred was sitting on the edge of the bed, tapping his fingers against the white sheets. Arthur looked down, and when he saw it, he couldn't help but point it out.

"Your shoes are on the wrong feet."

Alfred snapped his head down, stopping the tapping. When he realized that his shoes were, in fact, on the wrong feet, he scrambled to fix them, his face lighting up with red like a firework.

First getting drunk out of his mind and leaving a Vegas casino with a stranger. Then marrying said stranger. The shoes were just the brick set on top that made the entire tower fall. Arthur couldn't help it. He began to laugh, starting out with huffing air, morphing to giggles, then bursting into howls.

Glaring at him, though with a hint of confusion mixed in, Alfred yelled, "Why are you laughing?"

"It's just... it's just..." Arthur dissolved into another fit. He lifted his arms to clutch his sides, hoping that it would somehow contain it.

Alfred stood, stepping towards him. His eyes were narrowing, anger swirling in his eyes. "Hey, instead of laughing at me over a simple mistake, why don't you think about how screwed we are?"

Arthur wanted to defend himself, tell Alfred that no, he wasn't laughing at him, he was laughing at themselves, but he couldn't. The laughter wouldn't cease, even at the sight of Alfred's anger growing. 

When he started to slam his hand against the desk he was leaning against, Alfred huffed, before walking over to the small refrigerator by the door. He pulled the door open, squatting as he looked over its contents. Inside were small bottles of water, lined up and ready for the occupant's use. Alfred grabbed one, the largest and fullest one, before standing and closing the door. He unscrewed the cap, throwing in into the trashcan. Stepping up to him, he raised the bottle over Arthur's head and tipped it over.

The water splashed, most of it dropping to the carpet. A stream ran down his forehead, his cheeks, before dripping from his chin. Water dripped from the tips of his soaked hair, a feeling he had hated since childhood. The cold reminded him of his headache, as the throbbing pain was back and stronger than ever. The top of his favorite green sweater was drenched, and though it had seen the rain of his home country many times, he was still miffed at it getting wet. The laughter long gone, Arthur opened his eyes and gave Alfred the dirtiest and meanest look he could have managed. 

"What. The. Bloody. Hell. Was that for?" 

"I don't know, why don't you ask yourself? Since you were the one laughing at me!" 

"Wh- I-" Arthur sighed, clenching the bridge of his nose. "You're a moron."

"Oh, I think you've already established that!"

"When have I ever-"

Three large bangs sounded, and the two snapped their attention to the door leading out to the hallway. A new voice sounded, though it was one that seemed familiar, yet Arthur just couldn't place it.

"Hey, you there! I've had complaints all night and all morning about you two, so shut up or I'll charge you extra!"

Alfred winced, and Arthur's own cheeks started to red. He had completely forgotten about the fact that they were in a motel, and there were other people there, too.

Clearing his throat, Alfred was the one who spoke up. "Understood. Sorry about that, man."

There was a mumbling on the other side that Arthur could just barely hear before it was gone, and silence returned to the room. Shifting his feet to toe at a particular stray snag in the carpet, Arthur chose to swim in his embarrassment rather than continue their previous argument. It was ridiculous, anyways. His sweater and hair would dry, and it was just a mistake of Alfred's. 

Alfred sighed, tossing his arms up in surrender. He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. Arthur thought it looked like melted caramel.

"Look, dude-"

"Don't call me 'dude'."

" Right. Arthur. Sorry 'bout that. Where do you live? What do you do?"

Arthur raised his head up, eyes narrowing. Surely he couldn't actually be considering to try this? They knew nothing about each other.

Just to be clear that they weren't, in fact, thinking the same thing, Arthur slowly said, "Pardon?" as if he were speaking with a five-year-old.

Alfred looked up at him, pausing as if it was the most difficult thing in his life to say. "Come on, don't make me do all of this. Let's try to work this... thing out."

Arthur sank back against the desk. He really didn't want to do this, but... "Boston. I'm a college student at the New England School of Law in Boston, Massachusetts." 

Alfred's eyes widened, his mouth slightly opening. Something that Arthur wasn't expecting. He took a step back, before bursting into a million-watt Hollywood smile, something that he definitely wasn't expecting. Arthur almost snorted. He really was a golden boy.

"Woah. That's so cool! I go to MIT, ya know, the one in Cambridge! That's not even ten minutes from Boston!"

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. He had honestly thought the man would live somewhere across the country, like in California, or in one of those ignored states in the middle of nowhere. But on the same coast as him? In the same state, no less? He sighed in relief. He wouldn't have to ignore this, tell any future partners that he had met some random guy and married him during a drunken night he could no longer remember. It was a blessing.

Besides, he could always save up the money to divorce Alfred later. If he even wanted to. 

Alfred was practically bouncing in joy and anticipation as he exclaimed, "Hey, Arthur. You- we don't have to you don't want, but... do you think that we could just... wing it?"

Arthur snorted at his forwardness, something that he had found a lack of in this country, then nodded. He felt a small smile form on his face. 

The Hollywood smile at its full force, Alfred clapped his hands together. "That's great! Do you want to go get lunch with me? I'm pretty sure that guy wants us to leave."

Nodding again, Arthur slowly said, "I'd like that." But before he could gather all his things to put into his pockets, his stomach twisted and crinkled harder than ever before. And, with his hand flying to cover shield his mouth, Arthur Kirkland dashed for the motel bathroom, newly wedded husband Alfred F. Jones in tow.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a marriage certificate somewhere in the motel room...
> 
> So, I'm not really that happy with this fic, I wished it would've turned out a bit longer. (2,799 words excluding author's notes) But I do need to keep my fanfiction blog up, and of course, my accounts to various fanfiction sites. 
> 
> One more thing, I do not live in or near Boston or Las Vegas, so everything is strictly from Google. The motel might seem a bit nice, (for a motel) but I figured it could be an expensive one. 
> 
> If you are reviewing, thank you so much, and, if you don't mind, could you possibly include some things that I could do to improve future stories? 
> 
> Thank you for reading "Lover Boy", I hope you enjoyed. Have a nice morning, day, and evening!


End file.
